Page 55 of Bobby

I’m not going to lie and tell her some made-up story. That I wanted the annoying venue manager to stop throwing herself at me. Or that I thought it would stop the panic attack she had in the helicopter. Both are partially true, but the real reason is far simpler.

I wanted to know her lips. I wanted to feel them, taste them, mark them as my own.

She licks her lips as her eyes dart to the window behind me before looking back at me. “I think I know what you want.”

I blink once. “Do you?”

She nods slowly.

“And what do you want?”

She doesn’t say it. But I feel it.

Me.

She wants me as much as I want her.

The charge in the air changes around us. The sparks that have been flickering since the first moment we met seem to have reached a tipping point. Lightning illuminates her face, and I see her pupils are dilated. Not out of fear like this morning, but desire.

“I should go to bed,” she says.

Probably for the best. I want Willow. I won’t deny that. But her being in my life would be something she’d have to fight for. Not because I would make it difficult, but because the world would. The business would see things one way, the famiglia another. She would be a liability that people would seek to exploit. Even her girls would be affected by my life. She’s already been through so much, and I’m not sure I can ask her to take that leap. Even if I want to. Even if my soul weeps and begs me to.

“Please take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.” I motion to the room as I walk around her and sit down, setting my drink on the table.

She hesitates, glancing at the room before looking back at me.

“The bed is big enough for two,” she says softly.

That might have been an invitation. It might not have been. But I make my words very clear for her to understand what that would mean.

“You don’t know what you’re offering. If I go in there with you, sleep will not be something I’ll be doing. And I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

Yet.

It hangs on the tip of my tongue, and the room charges again with electricity.

“I think I am,” she whispers.

I tilt my head as I take her in. The candles and lightning light her up enough that I can see her face. I can read her body language. This isn’t a scared woman or one caught up in the moment. This is a person who knows what she wants.

And I’m not about to deny her, as her wants match my own.

I slide off my glasses, setting them by my drink as I stand and walk to her. Brushing my hand behind her ear, I push the strands she’s had down all day back from her face.

“Last chance, Wildflower.” She can back out now. Not later. Whether she knows this or not, this will be a binding contract. There will be no escaping once she gives herself to me. I won’t be able to survive if she leaves. Two weeks was all it took for her to enfold me completely into her life with her and the girls. The thought of them not being a part of my world is paralyzing.

“Why did you call me that?”

“Because it’s how I see you. Bright, strong, beautiful. Blossoming when there’s no light to grow. Standing tall when the wind tries to blow you down. You’re wild and carefree in a world that prefers manicured lawns and perfect flower arrangements. You’re natural and the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I bend down while gripping the back of her neck, pulling her close. My lips touch hers, and it’s as if we never stopped. I’ve already memorized the way she melts into me when I dip my tongue into her mouth. How a nibble on her lips brings a sigh from her lungs. How the tighter I hold her against me, the more she shivers with need.

I bend my knees just enough to scoop her into my arms, carrying her into the bedroom without letting my lips part from hers.

When I set her down again, I finally let her get a full breath, which she takes in a big gulp.

Her hands move to my shirt, but I still them, releasing one so I can tip her chin up to look at me.